Dying land
by Galiko
Summary: Another quickie noncon Judal thing for Emily!


A Magi isn't _supposed_ to find himself in these sorts of situations.

Then again, Judal doesn't exactly expect to be put here by his own keepers.

It's punishment, they say at first—_training_, later, to emphasize that he needs to be put in his place. Certainly, if he had expected this, he would have been able to escape the chains that they so easily clasp about his neck and wrists, collaring him to the wall on his knees like he's a _dog_. The backlash, the _drain_ on his magoi whenever he attempts to escape is dizzying, and so after the first few, panicked attempts, he stops trying.

If it's being collared, that's fine (it isn't). He can wait through that, until they think he's_behaving_.

That's only the tip of the iceberg, though. Judal realizes that very quickly when the first man comes in, and his head spins when it slams back against the cold, stone wall, leaving him gasping, his world spinning. He looks up, but he can't see the man's face, the cloak and veil pinned in place by thorns a familiar thing now, no matter how he _hates it_. Above all, he hates the anonymity—the fact he'll never know exactly who is _doing this_.

Then again, Judal is certain he doesn't want to know, not when a strong, rough hand pries his jaw open, twists a thumb into the corner of his mouth to _keep_ it open, and the thick, blunt head of the man's cock nudges its way inside.

Instinct tells him to struggle, makes him want to bite down as he thrashes, but a swift backhand quickly makes that idea disappear, especially when it feels almost like the chains_tighten_. His jaw aches already, just with the first, hard shove of that cock into his mouth, and Judal chokes, gagging hard as his head is shoved back into the wall, the man rutting against his face and sliding hard and thick down his throat.

It's _fast_, and that's his only blessing, Judal desperately thinks, though he nearly retches when the man pulls back, rubbing his cock over his swollen, sticky lips before he comes with merely another stroke of his hand. It's a messy thing, dripping over his cheeks and lips and even some onto his eyelashes, and he wants nothing more than to be able to wipe it away—something impossible, with how tightly his arms are chained.

The man's seed is nearly dry on his face by the time the rest of them come. He's jerked awake with a rough hand on his braid, his chains undone from the wall and fastened behind his back instead, and the one about his neck serves as a collar and leash, no matter how he pulls and thrashes against it. They're _silent_, save for their chiding—and they make sure he is, too, with his head shoved forward and down onto another man's cock, his whimpers muffled with every inch of it stuffed down his throat and leaving him to choke and cry and desperately try to _breathe_ through his nose.

That's the kinder of them. The _worst_ is the ones that grab him by the hips, yanking him back onto their waiting, slick cock, with the first one that shoves inside of him the worst as he tenses and trembles, squirming as he tries to claw scramble away no matter his bonds, no matter the hands in his hair or the way he simply _shakes_. He's a _Magi_—how dare they treat him like this, how dare they _use him_, and oh, they do it effectively, with one man shoved down his throat and the other deep in his ass, leaving him to twitch and tremble as he's pulled between them, stuffed full at both ends.

Another is even less kind—grabbing at his nipples once the man in his mouth comes over his face, leaving him sputtering. Judal can't muffle the squeak and whine of pain when his nipples are twisted and _pulled_, can stand it even _less_ when his legs are shoved back and a second cock pushes at his hole. It doesn't matter how frantic his pleas of _no no no please don't_ are—this is his _punishment_, they say, a lesson in what happens if he won't _behave_, and when that second, throbbingly hard cock pushes inside of him, Judal can't _breathe_, can't catch his breath for how he aches, and he exhales a mindless, keening sound, eyes wide and tears streaking down his face as he's rocked atop both of them.

He's their _hole_, Judal comes to realize when eventually, he's shoved face first into the cold floor, ridden like a mare and jerked up by the hair only to have his mouth shoved down onto another, waiting cock. Their hole to use, to abuse, to _enjoy_, and he's to remain pliant, to_enjoy it _himself. The worst is when his own cock _does_ harden, when he's so slick and full that the slide of a new man inside of him barely even hurts, and he's left sobbing when his mouth is pulled off, panting as they spill over his lips and tongue while he shakes and trembles.

They tell him he's a _good boy_ by the end of it, a good, obedient Magi, and when they're done, he simply curls himself up onto the floor, sticky and bruised and debauched, hating and loving the throbbing ache that sweeps through him all at the same time.

Either way, the lesson's been learned well enough.


End file.
